


What really happened aka fuck canon

by unbeleafable



Series: gross and gay soulmates [1]
Category: The Girl King (2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbeleafable/pseuds/unbeleafable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i wrote this for my good pal bc the ending of the movie was bad so i tried to make it less so. now you can read it too if you want idk but it's v gay so i think you should</p>
            </blockquote>





	What really happened aka fuck canon

**Author's Note:**

> first fic so like be gentle and all that pls. all mistakes belong to me

The first time you see her is at the banquet where you must make a grand speech revealing your plans for the country. You have been preparing for months and even though you know it by heart, you are still as nervous as when you first wrote it and recited it to the chancellor. His reaction had been what you expected considering the controversial ideas you had. As the meal progresses, you try to ready yourself. The chancellor tells you it is time and you steel your nerves. As you stand up her eyes meet yours and you feel infinitely less secure in your speech but at the same time, more grounded than you’ve felt for a long while.

You are nearing the climax of the speech and you feel her eyes on you. The way she looks at you makes you realise that you have her undivided attention. It seems as if she really understands where you are going with this. Unfortunately, she is probably the only one. You ignore the gentle-man interrupting you to protest your speech and continue speaking about peace and education. Her eyes are trained on your face and as you make your final remark, you swear you see a ghost of a smile on her lips. She claps with the rest of the crowd. You have to see her again.

The second time you see her, you get the same feeling you got the first time you read Descartes. Like something inside you finally snapped back into place and a desire to know infinitely more. You want to know her. You want to know how her mind works and what she likes to read. You want to know how she looks when she is reading something especially interesting and hard to grasp. You want to know what she thinks about when she can’t sleep and if and how her thought intersects with yours. You want her. 

The third time you meet her is when you’re imploring her to try on the dresses you’ve been sent. You have no interest in wearing them or who sent them but you definitely want to see them on her. You want to know which ones she’d like more. She’s scrutinising your face closely as if to figure out if you really mean it. As you nod yes, you feel like you did at your annual health checks. Nervous, fidgety, and wanting very much to prove yourself. You snap out of your memory as she is moving away to try on the dress. You tell her no, a little too quickly and definitely too loudly. She startles and you feel bad as you say you want her to try on the dress in front of you. You can’t read her expression but you feel her eyes burn, and you gulp as they roam over your face.

You lock eyes as she is taking off her clothes. You feel as if you’re witnessing something holier than the Sunday sermon and communion. More and more skin is revealed and you feel as if perhaps you shouldn’t be looking but at the same time you cannot tear your eyes away. You don’t really want to anyway. When you shyly meet her eyes again, you know she’s seen you staring. You feel like you should apologise to her but you’re the king and she’s looking at you the same way. You don’t really know what this is but you know you want to drown in it.

You’ve learned she has a fiancé and you are jealous. You’re aware it is not your business but you ask her if he treats her right anyway. She nods in this sort of solemn quiet way that tells you that maybe she’s not telling the truth but to not press further. You want to know how he looks at her but she’s done talking about it so she decides to tease you instead. She’s describing how you look at her while moving closer and suddenly you feel as if your throat is constricting. You are definitely blushing now because you can smell her and it is intoxicating. She is so close. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is hammering away in your chest. She is so very close and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the warmth of her breath. But then. Then she turns and walks out of the room and you try to catch your own breath and lower your pulse because you’re pretty sure your veins were about to burst and you don’t want to die just yet.

The fourth time is different. You’re teaching her how to shoot a rifle and it probably shouldn’t feel so intimate. You showing her how to place the rifle against her shoulder while you tell her about how it works. Your whole body is aligned with hers and your learn that your favourite smell isn’t books and fresh flowers anymore. Your bodies fit together and you feel like you did the very first time you stood up to your teacher. A burning feeling in your chest that you - that this - is right. You’re not afraid she’ll call this blasphemy or try to push you away because you hear her breath hitch as you place your hand on hers to show her how to grip the rifle just right. She fires and you end up on the ground very much on top of each other in a tangle of limbs. You decide you want to feel this light forever.

You’ve invited her to the library you’re creating. She’s very attentive and she wants to know every-thing. Which is something you really really adore about her. You’ve always liked teaching. It makes you feel useful. Not like how people make you feel when they tell you to hurry up and get married so a man can run the country already. You smile as her breath hitches again at your close proximity and you think that maybe marriage is not so bad. If it’s with the right person. You sigh and she looks at you funny. You wonder if she ever thinks about you this way. You want to find out.

The next thing you invite her to is your dinner table and she makes this horrified gesture that matches the expression on her face. You don’t want to ask her again because even though you know she can’t say no - because you’re literally the king - you’re still nervous she wouldn’t want to. Your worries dissipate quickly though because shortly after she’s schooled her expression and body language she sits down next to you by the table. You have the cook bring you food and you’re adamant she tastes the fresh tomatoes. She’s never had them before and neither have you so you figure this is a first for both of you and that’s probably a good place to start.

The way she chews is entirely too adorable and she seems to really like the tomatoes because suddenly there are only two left in the bowl and you hadn’t even tasted one yet. You had been too enraptured watching how she enjoyed herself and seemed truly happy if only for a moment. As you’re thinking, you bite into the tomato and by God this food should be forbidden, you think as it bursts with a pop and drips down your chin.

She looks at you amusedly and successfully fights her laughter as she wipes your chin with her finger and licks it clean with a smirk on her face. You’re not sure how it’s possible but you almost choke on the part of the tomato that actually went into your mouth and you’re scared this girl might be too big a mouthful. Even for you. But then again, you’re the king of Sweden and you can do anything. She nudges your arm and you grumble lightly because she’s yet again caught you in your own thoughts.

The rest of the dinner goes without problems until the chancellor arrives and nearly faints as he sees her sitting at your table. He yells and makes an entirely unnecessary scene by pulling her up from the table and telling her off. You tell him that it was, in fact, you who had invited her there in the first place and that it is, mind you, also you who is the king and not him. He looks at you with murder in his eyes and you realise that perhaps being the most powerful person in the country isn’t enough to keep you safe from treachery and poisonous revenge. You worry that you’ve put her in danger too.

You retire to your chambers and to your fear and delight she awaits you. You both know you have a lot to discuss and your mind is working harder than ever as you change into your nightgown. Suddenly weary you lie down and make yourself comfortable on the bed. You need her close to you so you can gather strength for what is inevitably coming so you tell her the old line about the king’s bed companion and you feel rather proud of yourself as she slips under the covers next to you.

She, however, takes you by surprise when she asks you if the king’s bed companion also did this, then slowly inches closer to you. You didn’t really think this would be happening and you’re not complaining but your mind won’t shut up because you need to figure out how to get both of you out of this safely while also carrying the fate of an entire country on your back and that is scary and hard and - and then she kisses you and the world quiets for a beautiful moment.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing but you know you don’t ever want to stop doing that. You realise you have to. You sigh and she looks at you with a face that says ‘I know. But I really don’t want to stop this either’. So you don’t. When the last candle goes out, you decide to talk to her about all the things running through your mind. You shush her and get up quietly to make sure no one is listening by the door or can peek though the key hole.

She’s clearly uncomfortable with the way this is going but you need to tell her. So you do. You tell her how much you feel for her. And how perhaps the world is ending because of sin but what even is a sin and Descartes said you need to unlearn everything you’ve been taught if you ever really want to know anything. She shuts you up with a sad kiss and you taste salt. You don’t know when either of you started crying but you know it breaks your heart to see her this sad.

You spend the night talking about how to make all of this work and you end up with a pretty solid plan. Before you drift off to sleep, you hear her whisper i think we have to avoid seeing each other for a long while to make this believable and that scares me so so much. I know we have to do this but I am so scared. For both of us. She holds you a little tighter at that and you both fall asleep hopeful and scared about the future.

You wake up alone and for a frantic couple of seconds you’ve forgotten the entire talk you’d had with her. You roll to the other side of the bed in sorrow and bury your head into the pillow. That’s when you rediscover your favourite smell and remember how this is supposed to go. You do not know if anyone found out about your connection. Your relationship. But you’ve decided to be very careful and to pull this off you need to play your part in the act.

She’d sought an audience with you in the throne hall and you wait for her there along with the court and servants. You need to be angry for this to work so you think about your mother and how she forced you to kiss your fathers corpse every night and morning as if that would still matter to him. As if he would still feel it. Your anger is potent as she enters the room and she visibly shrinks back by your stare before regaining the enormous courage she needs for this.

By the time you’re done yelling at her she’s crying and you feel like complete and utter shit. So you know the plan is working. She flees the scene and it takes every ounce of willpower in you not to call her name or run after her. You face remains a passive mask not revealing the turmoil raging inside your chest. To emphasise the scene you storm out of the hall shouting at the guards to get out of your way or receive the same treatment as the countess. He freezes on the spot and pales several shades as you shove him out of your way.

You spend the next several months in a stormy mood. You’ve read all the books from your own collection and the next shipment is delayed because the idiots forgot half of the books and had to send a man back for them. And since you have nothing else to preoccupy your time with you decide it’s time. It’s time to find your king. You’ve had innumerable suitors but none of them had caught your interest. Luckily for you, you have a solid plan.

You find him ice bathing by the old mill and very much more naked than you ever want to see him. He quickly realises and covers up as you walk to his sauna. You’d been friends ever since you royal-ly kicked his ass in a sword fighting class. He’d assumed that since you were a girl, and small, you’d be easy to beat. He’d also been smart enough to never underestimate you, or women in general, ever again.

Bjorn was a bear of a man. He’d always been much bigger than you but your hearts were the same. He had talked you down when you’d learned the truth about the scar on your shoulder. He had held you when you’d cried and he’d made sure the chancellor didn’t disturb you for a week. Which wasn’t much but considering the fact that you lead an entire country, you’d say it was the biggest thing anyone had ever done for you. Which is why it pains you to ask him for something much bigger and definitely more dangerous.

You want me to be your what?, he looks at you like you’d just asked him to marry you or some-thing equally as ridiculous. You tell him again. You’re asking to adopt him as your son so he can be your rightful heir and thus king of Sweden when you die. You know it’s too much to ask for and you tell him but he shakes his head and sighs deeply.

You leave the sauna as a mother and more relieved than you thought possible. You desperately want to share the news with her but you know you can’t risk it all by contacting her. The thought of her hurt eats at your insides more than the thought of her with her fiancé or, you guess, her husband. Yeah. For the plan to work you both needed to be away from each other and breaking off her relationship with her fiancé would be too suspicious. So she got married and you didn’t attend the wedding because it would break you.

You now have a legitimate heir and you know she is safe, so you have nothing to worry about should you die trying to complete the plan. You’ve decided to try for peace with the Germans and so far it doesn’t seem promising. Your war is a war of faith and no sides want to admit defeat to the other. The French are trying to manipulate you to end the war by being baptised catholic and you don’t really care much for religion anyway but you know there’d be civil war and unrest if you made that deal with the French. What would the point be in saving the country from outside threats if it meant setting off a war on the inside?

By day, you work relentlessly for a truce with the Germans. You send delegation after peaceful delegation with your offers and demands but nothing really comes to fruition. They are stubborn and you tire easily. At night, you lie frustrated and unable to sleep trying to figure out your next move and to calculate how many days it’s been since your beloved was near you. You now that by now she and her husband would probably be parents. You feel this sad tugging sensation in your chest and you fear that after all this she might not want you anymore. Perhaps she is happy with him.

For months, you work with the Germans and torture yourself with thoughts about her life with her husband. You hope that even if she doesn’t love you anymore that she’s happy with her husband. That he is finally treating her right and that their potential child is happy too. They deserve that. She deserves that.

One day you reach your breaking point; you can’t take it anymore. You’re done and you need to move forward. The Germans don’t seem to want to budge the slightest bit and you realise you don’t want to do this anymore. You’d thought you could be the hero. That you could make up this grand plan and that it’d all work and you’d make peace with the Germans and then bring knowledge and prosperity to Sweden and rule the land justly and with passion.

Turns out you were wrong. The Germans won’t listen and you don’t want to negotiate with them anymore. You still want peace though so you send for Bjorn. You spend three weeks catching him up on the details and when you feel he is ready you tell him about your plans and the library. He practically beams and you feel proud for you oldest friend who is like a brother to you and now also your son. You make him promise you two horses and plenty of rations and when he does, you hug him so tight you hear him let out a strangled huff of air.

The next day you crown him king and though you may not be the hero, nor a prince, a king or a queen with a kingdom but you still want your happy ending. You’re not sure if you deserve it after everything but you’ve gotten what you wanted before and you want to try. So you ready the horses and prepare yourself for the journey. You’re confident the kingdom is in the most capable hands it could be. Except for yours. And you know Bjorn will be a just and smart king. He will not disappoint you. You ride out of the courtyard with one thought on your mind; home. You’ve had a kingdom and a castle but not a home. Not since your father died. Now is the time to change that.

The journey to her house takes a day if you ride quickly so you’d be able to arrive just before sun-rise. You know the trip is short considering they could’ve chosen to live much further away in his family estate. You hope that the fact that she lives this close is because she still wants you and doesn’t want to be further away than strictly necessary. You still manage to despair several times as you think about all the things she could tell you when you arrive. All the reasons she could have for refusing to see you.

When you almost fall out of your horse by exhaustion you decide to rest for an hour. You’ve worked so hard for this and you’ll not ruin it all by falling off your horse and dying right before you see her again. Besides, the horses could use some rest too and you still don’t know if you’re brave enough to do this so taking some time to breathe is probably the smartest solution. Negotiating possible war with the Germans you can handle. But a woman like her is a completely different story. You’ve never felt royal with her. You were just you and that was wonderful and absolutely terrifying because if you’re just you that means she can just leave and you can’t do anything about it.

You arrive just before sunrise as you had predicted. You leave the horses in the outskirts of the woods so you don’t make more of a ruckus than necessary. You reach her house and your heart is beating even faster than it did when you made her try on your dresses. That seems like a far off fantasy now and you gulp down your nerves and knock softly on the door. For a while nothing happens and then the door is thrown open and you’re hauled inside before you can even make a sound.

Your eyes fail to adjust to the darkness and you’re starting to worry you might have found the wrong house. But then lips crash onto yours and you’re both desperately clinging to each other for a wonderful and short moment. She steps back and whispers I’ve waited so long for you. We must go now but we need to take our daughter with us. You know you look shocked if her face is any tell because she looks as if she’s kicked a chicken so you just nod and tell her to grab the kid and the stuff she needs.

You could never not love her. Even if she has a kid with another or loves someone else. She’s it for you. You tell her so as you’re mounting the horses and riding south. She looks at you funny and your heart swells three sizes and you’re not really sure why but perhaps it’s because she’s chosen to be here. With you. Despite how impossible all of it seems you know you could never ask for more.

Your journey is long but it gives you time to catch up and get to know each other again so you don’t really mind. It’s not like you want to be anywhere else but her side anyway. You’re discussing your plans for what to do now and she surprises you with the most lovely of things. She’d spent a lot of time thinking about what would become of you all and your smile grows fonder as she tells you what she’d been thinking.

She laughs as you tell her that you’re both mothers now and that your son is the king of Sweden but that her and her daughter - your daughter now too - are the biggest treasures of them all. They both look at you like you’re someone who is more than just the ruler of a country. A person that they love. And it turns out your daughter is insanely smart and you’re pretty sure she’ll grow up to shut up many philosophers who think they’d found the truth.

You arrive at this small village where people don’t really care about how you live as long as you’re a good person which you think a lot of people could learn from. With the help from the local builders, you build an academy of learning. Before long people from the entire village wants to help you and your family and you feel proud that you get to live here. You go back to teaching and your daughter wants to know about everything.

You and Ebba stay up many nights discussing yours and your daughter’s futures. You fall asleep in each other’s arm pretty much every night and you’ve never felt more at home than you do in her embrace. You’ve made a home with her. You’re finally finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to make a happy ending bc we all deserve that and we apparently have to do that ourselves which is shit but okay


End file.
